


Ghost Adventures and Absolutely No Chill

by FreshBrains



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Canon Lesbian Character, Community: genprompt_bingo, Gen, Ghost Hunters, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Meta, POV Tara, Recreational Drug Use, stoners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Glenn and Tara are stoner best friends who decide to check Glenn's apartment for ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Adventures and Absolutely No Chill

**Author's Note:**

> After the most recent episode of TWD and my subsequent pain, I have written this in my grief. Everyone is high and nothing hurts.
> 
> Mentioned pairings include Lori/Rick, Lori/Shane, and Carol/Daryl as well as possible future Glenn/Maggie and Rosita/Tara. Canon domestic violence is mentioned but in the past. 
> 
> Also fills the prompt "ghosts and hauntings" on my genprompt_bingo card.

“Lilly asked if we were having one of our _Ghost Adventures_ and chill days today,” Tara says, wrinkling her nose. She sets the joint on the lip of the ashtray and breathes a stream of smooth smoke in the general direction of Glenn’s apartment window.

Glenn snorts. “Does she even know what that means?”

“Probably not,” Tara says. “She’s such a mom now.” As the credits for the latest episode roll down the screen, the Netflix alert pops up, asking them if they’re still watching. Tara groans and reaches for the remote, which sits just out of arm’s length next to one of the dozens of empty pizza boxes on Glenn’s coffee table. “Dude, your turn.”

Glenn does as he’s told and the next episode of _Ghost Adventures_ begins. “I’ve already seen this one,” he says mournfully, scratching at the light growth of stubble on his chin. “I’ve already seen them _all_.”

“When do you deliver tonight?” Tara passes him the joint.

“Not until eight,” he says, taking a hit. They’re both still in sweats, Tara wearing one of Glenn’s Henley shirts. Showers haven’t been in the cards since Friday when Tara stopped by after class, finished Glenn’s Oreos, scored an eighth from Sasha down the hall, and used up the rest of Glenn’s Irish Spring shaving her legs.

It’s already Sunday afternoon.

“Do you know what we should do?” Tara sits up, arching an eyebrow at Glenn, their lifelong signal of _let’s get into some trouble_.

“If you say ‘go ghost hunting,’ I’m so in,” Glenn says, locking eyes with his best friend.

“God, I love you so much,” Tara says. “Let’s do it.”

*

“Good call on the tacos,” Tara says, dropping a pinch of _pico_ into her mouth. She crumples up her wrapper and chucks it into the trash bin on the third floor landing of Glenn’s apartment. “This ghost hunting shit is harder than I thought it would be.”

“It says here we’re looking for human spirit,” Glenn says, scrolling down on his iPhone. “Anything else is bad news.”

“Dude, your apartment was built in 1985,” Tara says. She pulls up her EMF Detector app and starts scanning the hallway. “If there’s a demon in here, someone definitely put it here.”

“What are you two idiots doing?” Glenn jumps and immediately flushes scarlet when Maggie Greene appears at the top of the stairwell, grocery bags loaded in her arms. She’s in a tank top and jeans, her biceps tanned and strong from weeks spent on her father’s farm. Tara had a crush on her for a week until Glenn’s undying affection for her eclipsed anything Tara might’ve felt.

“Ghost hunting,” Tara says, moving her phone slowly across the yellowing white wall. The detector remains totally silent. She ignores Glenn’s glare.

“Check downstairs,” Maggie says, unlocking her apartment door. Glenn rushes to her side to take one of her grocery bags, even though Maggie looked like she had a pretty good handle on it. “I hear some sort of weird moaning down there now and then.”

“That’s just the sheriff and his wife,” Tara says glumly. “They’re at it day and night.”

“I heard she was sleeping with his deputy,” Glenn says, glancing around to see if anyone is coming out to get their mail or ask why the hell three young adults are lingering on the landing.

“Damn, son,” Tara says, nodding in approval. “You actually listened when I told you to keep up on the gossip around here.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, but when Glenn preens at Tara’s compliment, a tiny smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “Well, good luck. Let me know if you find a zombie or something.”

“Um, we’re _ghost_ hunting, dude,” Tara says.

“Yeah, zombies aren’t real,” Glenn agrees, but he’s still looking at Maggie like the sun shines out of her ass.

*

“I don’t really believe in ghosts,” Carol Peletier says as she tosses another armful of whites into the basement washing machine. “The scariest stuff is right in front of us.” She’s still in her leggings and tee shirt from the kickboxing class she teaches at the local women’s gym. There’s a streak of pink in her scruffy grey hair; Tara figures it was her daughter’s doing.

Glenn nods. He’s been living in the building as long as Carol has and knows her history with her asshole of an ex-husband. He’s also super good bros with her boyfriend Daryl, who rides a motorcycle and scares the living shit out of Tara. “So you don’t think there’s anything weird going on in this building?”

Carol arches an eyebrow. “Should I?”

Looking back at Tara, Glenn shrugs. “You never know.”

“Hey, maybe _we’re_ the scary ones,” Tara says, taking a long swig of her giant Coke from 7-11. “Like, we’re the ones taking over some land a bunch of ghosts already claimed.” Right as she says it, her phones lets out a shrill beep, and she and Glenn both startle.

“You’ve done it now,” Carol teases, shutting the washer. “Don’t let Abraham catch you down here. He’s still pissed about the water balloon incident.”

“Lilly, I’m hunting ghosts,” Tara says into her phone after realizing it was just her ringer. She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I can babysit at seven. Love you too.”

“I really thought we had something there,” Glenn says, sitting on top of the rumbling machine.

*

“You two look like you’ve seen better days,” Rick says, pausing in front of the building. Glenn and Tara sit on the dry patch of grass in front of the lobby in battered lawn chairs, sharing a cigarette and getting sunburned. “I thought you were ghost hunting.”

“We’ve left the industry,” Tara says, wondering how the hell that paltry bit of news reached the damn sheriff before he even got home.

“Especially after Sophia jumped out of the utility closet at us and gave Tara a panic attack,” Glenn says, stubbing the cigarette out into the empty bean can next to the mailboxes.

“Sorry to hear that,” Rick says, rocking back on his heels. He’s still in full cop getup, badge shiny and hat jaunty, and if Tara was at all into dudes and not totally head-over-heels for Rosita Espinosa from her Intro to Management class, she’d think he was pretty hot. “You look morose. Even for a Sunday.”

Tara can tell Rick just wants to get inside to his kid and his possibly-philandering wife, but he’s too much of a good guy to say it. “Just contemplating life’s big questions.”

“Do we have a purpose here?” Glenn leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. “How do we know we’re all doing the right thing?”

Tara draws her knees up to her chest. “Yeah, and if evil exists, how do we know when we see it? Like, _true_ evil?”

Rick scrubs a hand down his face, looking bewildered. “Jesus, I thought you were both in college.”

“I am,” Tara says.

“I deliver pizzas,” Glenn says with a wave.

“Well,” Rick says, edging towards the door. “Do you want my advice?”

They both nod.

Rick unlocks the door and slips inside, giving them a kind, tired smile. “Relax and visit Sasha less. We’re all going to be fine.” The door shuts with a click.

Tara sits back, thinking about the sheriff’s words, thinking about Carol and her healed bruises, about Maggie’s pretty smile, about the possibility that Rosita _might_ even like her back. She turns to Glenn. “Man, we’re really fucking high.”

“Yeah we are,” Glenn says, grinning beneath the brim of his baseball cap.


End file.
